Between the Lines
by DetectiveMinerva
Summary: Jessica is having trouble sleeping after hours writing her latest novel, but Seth is there to help her relax - by reading between the lines in the best way possible. Reuploaded.


Reuploaded! This little Seth/Jess slice of life was inspired by an OTP prompt and, to me, is an accurate picture of what their marriage could have been like. I can easily see these two, with the comfort level they established in their decades-long friendship, being able to communicate in sweet little touches and sharing intimacy that went even beyond lovemaking.

_Imagine Person A of your OTP having a hard time falling asleep, so to help, Person B traces their finger over Person A's face until they relax and eventually drift into a peaceful slumber._

* * *

Thunderstorms were a common sight on the coast of Maine. On an Indian summer night in Cabot Cove, one of these squalls was spreading its remains across the little fishing town. A fresh, clean, beautiful smell lingered in the air from the earlier downpour. The air was humid and warm, a hazy September night. Though the storm had retreated to the ocean, dark clouds still hung in the air over the water, flashing with brilliant bolts of lightning, and the thunder had reduced from cannon-like blasts to gentle rumbles. It was a night that would have lulled anyone to sleep, but at 698 Candlewood Lane, one person was not falling asleep so easily.

"I forgot to wipe the fingerprints, Seth."

"Say what? Have you taken up robbing jewelry stores as a hobby?"

"Oh, very funny. I mean in my book. I forgot to add it to my draft, at the moment when the killer is trying to cover his tracks after stabbing Lady Elizabeth Ashford. He was supposed to wipe his fingerprints off the murder weapon and leave it behind for the police to find, because he stole it from Lady Ashford's husband, and leaving it behind would incriminate Lord Ashford."

At these words, Seth laid aside his copy of _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_. Most people would not have known that he enjoyed a good novel just as much as the next person, and fewer still would know that he was a fan of Jules Verne. However, when his wife began to describe the murder plot of her newest novel, he left the world of the Nautilus and returned to reality in Cabot Cove. "Well, Jess, if you've got it in your head, you can just add it to your draft tomorrow. No big deal."

Lying on her back beside him, staring up at the canopy of their bed, Jessica shook her head. "I just feel itchy about it, Seth. I feel like I have to add it while it's fresh, before it leaks out of my head entirely."

Seth pulled his glasses from his face and gazed over at her. Jessica's arms were poised behind her head, creating a pillow on the pillow, and a slight frown mark was etched between her eyes, always a sure sign that she was either lost in thought or determined to do something. "Jess, you've already spent ten hours working on your book. You need a break. No, scratch that; you need sleep. If you get up to add one thing to that book, you're gonna wind up spending another hour or two adding five more things."

Jessica slid her eyes over to him. "It would take me only five minutes. I think you're exaggerating."

"And I think you're full of applesauce," Seth retorted. "I know you, Jess. I know how your mind works. You might want to add to your manuscript right now, but if you do, you'll pull an all-nighter and you'll be too darn exhausted to even breathe tomorrow."

Jessica shook her head. "I will not. I know I need sleep, but I won't be able to get any sleep until I get this into the book. My deadline's only four days from now, and I don't want to leave any mistakes or loose ends in the story."

"Your editor will catch them if you did. I may not be a writer, but I've known you long enough to know how the process goes."

"A process that could go on for ages if I've made any mistakes."

"Jess..." Seth had heard enough. He slid down beneath the covers and rolled over until he was looking down at Jessica, and he gently took her into his arms. "Now, listen. I know you don't like me bossin' you around, but these are doctor's orders you're about to hear. You have worked long enough and hard enough on your book. I know you have a deadline and you still have a few kinks to work out in the story, but you need to rest. Get some sleep. Please."

Jessica regarded him pensively, one hand playing with the lapel of his pajama top. "You're worried I'm working too hard, aren't you?"

Seth nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Ayuh," he said softly. "I don't know about you, but I don't want a repeat of what happened back in 1989. Remember?"

Reading his question between the lines, so to speak, Jessica did indeed remember. In the spring of 1989, she had become so wrapped up in her work that it was all she was doing, and Seth was the only one perceptive enough – and stubborn enough – to tell her to her face, in essence, that her work would consume her unless she took the time for herself and for the ones she loved. And she had almost lost her chance to do so when Seth was poisoned. Ever since that time, Seth had always been the one to remind her to slow down and smell the roses whenever she was working too hard, just as he was doing now. "I do remember," she admitted, now letting her fingers walk up his neck to caress his cheek. "And I don't want to repeat that part of history, either. It was a storm I'd not soon weather again."

A soft rumble of thunder sounded outside, and the soft pitter-patter of raindrops sounded on the roof. "Well, you don't have to worry about it. Not that storm and not that storm, either," Seth said, nodding his head at the window. "That little bit of thunder and some rain oughta put you to sleep in no time."

At last, Jessica smiled up at him. "You've calmed me down about working too hard, but I still don't know if I can get to sleep."

"That's 'cause you've worked yourself up worryin'," Seth teased, his fingers brushing through her silky blonde curls. "You gotta relax, honey."

Jessica let out a blissful sigh as he ran a fingertip along her cheekbone. "You're helping me do just that."

Seth smiled. "Does that feel good?"

Jessica closed her eyes, long lashes fanning out over her cheeks. "Wonderful. Don't stop."

Seth lowered his lips to hers for a soft, tender kiss. "I live to serve," he whispered, his hazel eyes twinkling. His fingertip gave her cheekbone one last stroke and slowly, sweetly moved across the planes of her face, tracing every single contour: the arch of her nose, the apples of her cheeks, a jawline that was strong yet delicate at the same time. A smile came to his face again when his fingertip began its journey over her face yet again, this time joined by his opposite index fingertip. Together, they traced every line, both the outlines of her face and the softer lines of age.

Those lines were the most beautiful, Seth thought. Jessica had always been a beautiful woman, but she had only grown lovelier with age, if one asked him. A few wrinkles didn't mar her beauty, they only enhanced it. His fingertips feathered over the smile lines blossoming from the corners of her eyes, the laugh lines surrounding her mouth, and a few more defining the angles of her forehead and chin. Those lines told the story of a happy life, one that still had many wonderful years to come. They told of a woman who had always been, and would always be, loved.

"I love you," Seth murmured, his fingers still leaving a loving trail on her skin.

"I love you, too," Jessica breathed. Her eyes were still closed, and her body had sunk into full relaxation, her breathing deep and easy. Sleep wasn't very far away. Seth traced his fingers over her face one more time, and she was lost in her dream world, the hint of a smile still on her lips.

Contentment washing over him like a warm bath, Seth carefully turned back over onto his own side of the bed and pulled Jessica back into his arms. He had done his work well. She was fast asleep, safe and sound in his arms, dreaming a peaceful dream. And if he was any good at reading between the lines, so to speak, that peace came from knowing that she was loved. "I'll always love you," he whispered, dropping a kiss among her curls. No one had to read between the lines to know that.


End file.
